Bella

I’ve never woken up to a man sleeping next to me before, but as I gaze over the ledge of the mattress to the small slice of Heaven stretched out on the floor, I definitely wouldn't mind doing it more often. I have my very own Le Faune Barberini statue brought to life, splayed across crinkled white sheets in a makeshift bed below. Evan’s god-like arms and torso are on full display, like a work of art.

I watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps, peacefully. My fingers itch to reach out and trace the maze of his well-defined abs and deadly dragon tattoo. But I won’t put my hunger before his peace, so I just keep watching him, unable to tear myself away from the spectacle of such utterly heartbreaking perfection.

He stirs, and I smile when he opens his eyes. “The couch was horrible.”

I laugh. “You could have pushed me over. You didn’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The sun pours through the window, the remnants of the hurricane long gone. “It’s ok.” He gets up, taking the sheets with him, and folding them in his arms.

“I like this picture.” I point to the painting of a giant pineapple encased in a gold frame.

“Came with the house,” he shrugs but his eyes stay on the picture.

“You don’t like pineapples?”

“I’m sure if Eve tempted Adam in the Garden of Eden with a pineapple the outcome would have been much different.”

“Ah,” I say, climbing out of bed. “We have a pineapple hater in our midst.”

Evan laughs. “Well, it’s kind of the worst fruit out there.”

“No, it’s not. Have you ever heard of a durian?”

“A what-ian?” he asks.

I smile. “A durian fruit. I watch a lot of cooking shows, and they’re always using that fruit in competitions.”

Evan raises a brow. “Why’s that?”

“Because it looks bad. It’s an ugly fruit, and it smells so bad. Like they explain it as rotting flesh.”

“Why would anyone eat that?”

“Because even though it smells so bad, it tastes really sweet, if prepared just right.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.” I make his bed, fluffing the pillows as I tell him all about the durian fruit. “Not all bad things are bad. Sometimes looks can be deceiving.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Eve didn’t tempt Adam with that.”

“I like the pineapple though, very Floridian.”

Evan walks toward the door. “Later, we can drive around and check out the damage. I’m sure I’ll be called into work.”

“I wonder if there’s anything left of my house,” I say, trying to steer clear of trouble. “Not that it would be some great loss or anything.”

He doesn’t offer some bullshit answer about how he’s sure it’s fine, which I appreciate. He knows just like I do that it may no longer be there.

“You think it’ll be safe? Sometimes they won’t let you drive around this soon after the storm.”

“Who is ‘they’?” he asks, sounding a bit challenging.

I peek up at him as I finish with the bed. “Cops, obviously.”

Evan admires my face, thoughtfully. “Baby, I am the law.”

He just got ten times sexier for some reason.

Hurricane Logan hulk smashed my trailer. Metal framing twists into mini-cyclones and the east end of it is completely ripped to shreds. Water from the rain floods the inside ruining nearly all of my stuff—not that there was much—but crap, you know that kind of makes it even worse. I see Mr. Ford, an old man that lives a few doors down, cleaning up debris around his ravaged trailer. It didn’t fare much better than mine.

“Hey, Bella,” he says, pausing the sweeps of his broom.

“Hey,” I return. “Glad to see you guys made it out alright.”

He smiles, crinkly and warm. “Survived a lot worse than this in my day.”

I smile back. “I bet.” I turn to Evan. “I need to check on my mom.”

“We can swing by there next.”

I glance back at the dilapidated trailer, my home, and say goodbye for now. My heart is heavy in my chest, and I raise my head skyward, so no tears run down my cheeks.

Evan notices, and I wish he didn’t.

It could’ve been much worse. I could’ve stayed behind. I’d be in the hospital probably, instead of standing here. I wonder if Mom even remembers what blood type I am? I know hers. I know she isn’t allergic to anything. I wonder if she remembers I’m allergic to penicillin?

I suck in some fresh air before I suffocate. I rush to Evan’s truck, and lean against the door, sliding down to land on my ass.

I take in deep gulps of air, trying my best to get my emotions under control. This can’t be my future.

Chasing my mother around town, and being in the aftermath of her storm, is not something I want. I want to be in front of the storm, before the harsh winds hit. Before the rain and thunder. Before all the bad things happen. But, I just don’t know how.

“It’s going to be ok, Bella,” Evan says, hovering over me, blocking out the sun. He sinks down alongside me, and for one moment I feel a part of something good, like with him anything is possible.

“You sure?”

He nods.

Funny enough, I trust him. Relief relaxes my shoulders and I can breathe.

“I’m allergic to penicillin,” I tell him. “I don’t think anyone knows that.”

“I’m AB negative,” he says back. I don’t think many people know that.”

I smile. “I am too. It’s the rarest type out there.”

He lifts his arm and lets me slide underneath. “Yeah, it is.” Evan smells like his truck. Like Leather. Like the steel of a gun. His body is hard and in no way comfortable to be against except for the fact that his strong heavy arm on my shoulder feels like a shield.

I sigh. “I’m ok,” I finally tell him.

“It’s normal to react this way. I’ll help you any way I can.”

I wave him off. “It’s fine. I’m sure if Tucker’s house is still standing I can stay there.”

“Let’s go check it out then.” He stands, holding out his hand to help me up.

“Maybe we can swing by the gas station on the way. Check to see if I still have a job.”

“I don’t think the gas station is up and running yet,” Mr. Ford says. “I think the only gas is out on 441.”

“Orange Blossom Trail is a bit of a trek,” I say to Evan.

“Let’s just check it out anyways,” Evan says.

“I hope I have a job to go to.” God, could this day get any worse? Yes, yes, it could.

When we pull up to the gas station I suck in a sharp breath. This is not what I was expecting. Half of the roof now hangs off the side.

“Well…” Evan is at a loss for words like I am.

“No job. No home. Thanks, Logan.”

“Yeah, this hurricane has been nothing but trouble.”

I will not cry. I can do this. I nod in agreement, but I’m too wound up. I’m like a live wire, and there’s only one place in the world I want to go right now: his lap. But I don’t.

“Maybe Tucker’s house will still be fine.”

“Let’s go check it out,” Evan says, putting the truck in gear.

“Is your cell phone working?”

“Yes.”

“Odd how that always seems to be the first thing restored, isn’t it?” I laugh, because I’m probably in shock. “George Carlin thinks aliens gave us technology in the 70’s. That whole Roswell thing in the desert. That probably has a lot to do with it.”

Evan grins. “Aren’t you too young to know that comedian?”

“My grandma used to watch him when I was a kid, on HBO or whatever it was on.”

“Try calling your mom,” Evan says, handing over his phone.

I try a few times, with no luck. And after a few minutes, Evan pulls the truck down Tucker’s road. The small rancher comes into view and appears fine from afar.

“Oh, thank God,” I say.

Evan parks in the driveway, and I hop out and rush to the front door.

My mother opens the door, wearing a thin blue robe, and we hug. “Where did you stay? Did you see the trailer?” she asks.

I nod. “It’s not good, Mom. It’s going to take a lot to fix.”

She tucks a chunk of dark hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe this.”

Tucker brushes past her, out onto the porch, glancing at Evan by my side. “Where’d you ride out the storm?” he asks.

“I stayed with Evan.”

Tucker and my mom exchange a look of disgust. I can feel the tension rolling off of Evan’s body, so I put an end to this and ask if I can stay until I figure something else out. How sad I have to ask, but I get the ok. Yay me.

Once Mom and Tucker head back inside, I turn to face Evan. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

His blue eyes are warm when he answers, “I feel like I should be doing more.”

“Don’t be silly.” Mainly because I have an irresistible urge to touch him, I place my hand on his bicep. His muscles tense. “You’ve done enough, believe me.”

He rubs the back of his neck, contemplating. “Maybe…” he starts, but then stops.

“What?” I ask, wanting any reason not to go inside the house with my mother and Tucker.

“It just feels wrong leaving you here with nothing.”

“Why? Because this place is like a bad video game or something? I feel like I’ll die at any moment and need to find more gold stars to gain more lives and keep playing.”

“Well, maybe…” he starts again.

“Evan, just spit it out.”

“Remember I had offered you a job a while back?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you could come work for me.”

“At the police station?” I ask, confusion crossing my features.

“At my house.”

“Prostitution?” I joke.

He laughs, but a look of something passes over his features, like he wouldn’t mind hiring me for just that. “No,” he finally says, “I was thinking something like a maid,” he cringes on the last word, hoping he hasn’t insulted me.

What he doesn’t realize is right now I can’t be picky with my options, and his house is as clean as can be anyway. “Like unpacking your boxes?”

His eyes brighten. “Yes and organizing it all.”

I smile. “I’m hired.”

He laughs. “I can pick you up tomorrow? Too soon?”

“Nope. I’ll be ready.”

He says goodbye, and after losing everything today, I can’t help but feel I’ve found something special with Evan Lacuna.